


hell & peace

by quietdays



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, grim reapers au, happy birthday hao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 00:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietdays/pseuds/quietdays
Summary: or how xu minghao copes with death.





	hell & peace

**Author's Note:**

> hey happy birthday hao i love u have a fun one i wrote this using ur bday as an excuse

he wakes up without a name.

he wakes up without a name and without anything to think about. he doesn’t know anything, doesn’t remember anything. all he knows that it’s too dark and he’s wearing clothes he won’t be caught dead wearing—

wait.

like a light flickering on, his sight returns and his head throbs in pain. isn’t he dead? didn’t he die?

“about time you woke up.” he hears someone say and he wakes up, only to be greeted by a man in black. he’s laying down on a bed, sitting near him is a man dressed in full black, nothing else. “for a moment there, i really thought you died or something.”

he smiles cheekily at him, as if he’s telling the funniest joke in the whole world. for a moment, his heart softens and all his worries go away until he’s reminded—he really shouldn’t be here.

“i don’t belong here.” he says, sitting up. “i shouldn’t be here.”

“that’s what they all say,” the man in black sighs before shrugging. “sorry to say bud, but you’re stuck here until some god above gets bored or the world ends again.”

he grows quiet and doesn’t reply for a while. the man in black fidgets.

“have you decided on a name yet?” the man in black suddenly speaks all of a sudden.

“huh?” he says, confused.

“we don’t have names, they didn’t give us names. i think that gives us free reign to choose whatever name we want.” the man in black replies, “i picked junhui, if you wanted to know.”

he grows silent again. junhui fidgets once more.

“i mean!” junhui flusters, panicking the tiniest bit, “you don’t have to pick a name right away! it took me like three years before i got to junhui!”

he frowns and looks up to junhui. “i’m thinking of a name.”

junhui reddens. “oh.”

he goes back to thinking. junhui watches in silence, and then fidgets once more.

“am i bothering you?” junhui speaks again, “i can disappear for a little while if you want and come back when you’re like... ready, i guess?”

“no, it’s fine.”

the conversation ceases. junhui fidgets. he thinks.

“minghao.” he speaks after a few minutes. “call me minghao.”

junhui takes a few seconds to register, before smiling wide. “nice to meet you minghao.”

this is how junhui and minghao meets.

this is how minghao wakes up to his own personal brand of hell.

...

working with junhui isn’t the worst thing in the entire world. working with junhui is fun, memorable, and nice. minghao has no qualms with working with him.

but,

minghao has qualms with his job.

he goes out in the field wearing white, the shiniest and brightest white this realm has to offer, and returns home covered in mud, dirt, gore and blood. he goes out, with the tiniest bit of hope in his heart and goes home cursing the universe nd the gods.

minghao is too weak for this kind of job. too human for whatever the gods intends him to do.

it’s easy to catch the people who truly did wrong. minghao has no problem with using force to wrangle them to the deepest part of the underworld where they’ll pay their sins in full, minghao can close his heart to the desperate beggings of murderers and rapists who think they can do whatever they want. but the thing is—

those aren’t the only souls they catch.

(minghao closes his eyes and sees abandoned children, still trying to find for the parents who threw them away, looking at him with fear in their eyes, and minghao wants nothing more than to take away his mask and assure them that they’ll have a better life in the underworld but junhui holds his hand stronger than he has to, and minghao remembers the consequences of his actions if he even shows any semblence of emotion. but he can’t trust himself to do it. he can’t do it.

junhui does the job for him.)

minghao forces himself to smile and wear the mask. junhui intertwines his fingers with his. minghao ignores the looks he gives him.

...

some days, it is easy.

it’s so easy to wear a mask and pretend to be an emotionless husk of a body only existing to reap souls and to deliever them to whatever punishment or reward the underworld will give them. he learns to fool himself into believing in the system. that’s the only thing he can do really, believe in a system he will never ever partake in.

he wakes up, wears a mask, wait for junhui outside of their shared apartment, and then they go out. it’s clockwork at this point.

junhui holds his hand whenever it’s children they reap. minghao offers him a shoulder to not cry on whenever they reap an elderly soul. they both don’t talk about it when minghao grips junhui’s hand too hard or when junhui leaves minghao’s coat wet with tears.

he’s getting used to the gore, to the blood, to the violence of his job. it scares him.

...

minghao thinks that junhui is too soft to be one of whatever kind of job they have right now. and then he realizes he’s been on this job for a millenia now without snapping and going insane.

minghao looks at junhui, realizes he’s been carrying the burden of atlas for years.

he takes his hand.

(what minghao doesn’t know is junhui is close to breaking. he doesn’t, he carries on as if nothing is wrong and as if his heart doesn’t break every day because of the fact that minghao is there. minghao is his cute junior that can’t have his only anchor to break down. minghao is too soft for the world and he relies on junhui. junhui carries on, washes the blood away from both their clothes, trying to not cry and disconnect from everything because minghao still needs him. they need each other.)

...

minghao has been with this job for how many years now.

it still doesn’t get easy, it never gets easier. (minghao closes his eyes and he is haunted by the souls that he reaps. by anger. by sadness. by desperation. some days it’s too much, some days it’s a welcome reminder. he’s too human to be with a job like this but the gods aren’t kind enough. the gods are never kind enough.)

but it’s okay. he can get used to it. (junhui swarms his thoughts and dreams and everything. a part of him knows that a relationship as co-dependent as theirs is bound to blow up in their faces, bound to destroy the both of them if anything happens to each other. it’s only a matter of time before the world ends again, after all.

but junhui’s hands are warm and firm. his tears are hot on his shoulders. he’s out there for him, watching over him. he waits for him and they put on their masks together to continue another day of unending work.

this is how minghao wakes up to his own brand of peace.)

**Author's Note:**

> @sebountin


End file.
